Dream Of Fields

It’s one of my usual wandering over hillsides dreams, looking for my father. I’m carrying a basket of vegetables, don’t know how long I can do this. Everyone is wandering. No one talking. I see Stephen Colbert. Not sure I should talk to him or say I’m glad to see him since I don’t watch him or know anything about him, but he smiles at me and thinks I might need help with the vegetables. He’ll find someone and I’ll be ok because he’s famous. Famous people aren’t lonely which is a lie. They sometimes get lonely too, we’re talking about this, I admit I like being with famous people because then people ask if you are famous too. They’re doing this as I wander over the hillsides. No one is in groups.

I keep saying, “I do know Stephen Colbert.” I see him again on this next rise of the hill. He’s busy but says hi. We’re wandering again, no one feels it’s strange, it’s like a huge series of old-fashioned empty fields. Like high above Bel Air near Mulholland. I ask Stephen if it’s rude to ask if he’s gay or straight. “A little rude,” he says, but he laughs, “maybe a little of both. Don’t you want help carrying that?” he looks at the basket which is bigger now with pieces of old quilts, lots of pieces of kimonos and raggy wipes among the big vegetables. “No,” I tell him, “I’m not old, don’t worry about me, I want you to notice me not because I’m old, but because I’m still “known” if not for why. (because my father was famous or, as she said in his book “when Mr. Vosek told him he was fired, “Now I’ll be ‘once was’ or ‘used to be’ you want to die while you still ‘are’.”